


You Should Have Taken The Offer

by EVRyderWriter



Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: Brothers, Cross-Posted on Wattpad, Enemies, Gen, Good versus Evil, Heaven vs Hell, Lucifer won't return to Hell, Michael Is So Done, Michael threatening War, Originally Posted on FanFiction.Net, Possibly AU, Post-Episode 2, You Should Have Taken the Offer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-06
Updated: 2016-02-06
Packaged: 2018-05-18 11:11:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5926291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EVRyderWriter/pseuds/EVRyderWriter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Amenadiel's warning could just be his way of blowing smoke. Or it's the truth as far as he's willing to spare. A visit from the Great Defender of dear old Dad sings a much darker tune. Perhaps he *should* have taken the offer... (Occurs after episode two, "Lucifer, Stay. Good Devil". Probably won't hold up, but an interesting idea nevertheless.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Should Have Taken The Offer

_You should have taken the offer._

You know, I dunno why I _**care.**_ That dear brick-headed drama queen brother o' mine is always threatening some catastrophe to befall me…but why oh why does this time feel so… _ **real**_? Between Delilah's death and my discovery of a female persuasion I seemingly can't have, I thought I could bury myself in those possibilities and forget it.

Unfortunately (or fortunately? Perspectives always dizzied me…), it's an impasse.

Then I tried drinking it off. I figured that between bangin' sessions with the good doctor and…learning decidedly more about the delightfully enigmatic Detective Decker ( rather pleased with how that is going…), not to mention dealing with the fact I am singlehandedly trashing the cosmic and spiritual balance of the entire universe by shoving a nasty finger of fuck off up dear old Dad ass… I've a handle on my continuing fate.

Yet I still hear Amenadiel's threat: _You should have taken the offer._

I don't know what this is. I can't sex it off, I can't blow it off, I can't drink it off: I have changed. Am changing? It's fluid. Hard to explain, try to embrace it. And that's merely got Amenadiel spouting his gloom and doom most likely…

The stupid cosmic balance again. I'll tell you, I'm really starting to get sick and tired of hearing about that ball and chain! Between Maze…and Brother mine, even the Detective, although she doesn't realize it ( _ **any of it**_. You know how upfront I've been with her?!)…

I'm doing what I am meant to do, whether down there or in LA. All the same to me. But, then…I see these animals I would usually have an orgy-tastic bloodbath with down there, running rampant… annnd I kinda wanna make the apocalypse right now.

…Oh wait. Yeah. I probably am. Eh.

You can imagine the toil this is having on me. My routine of debauchery and devilment is waaay off course. I exaggerate, but the effect is the same… I even experienced the effects of failed night's sleep. And that's after the wildness of several ravenously experienced riders… Apparently my trying to explain what a Pyramid was to the Detective stuck with me, cuz, well…heh. There we all were…!

I finally succumbed to my yearning need for something straight and cold about 6 this morning, and eased from the sweaty pile of flesh sprawled about me. Maze's in there somewhere…

Strange, but, I almost felt repulsed by them. I knew right then what kind of day it was going to be. I snatched my silk robe, the black one, and tromped sourly down to Lux's club floor, beelining for the bar. No doubt trailing fire and brimstone: my mood has taken flight down to the depths of old home week to be sure. I mix unblemished and heartily shaken vodka martinis, garnished with my bitterest of lemon twist: I was in heaven…once…it's that good, because I am masochistic son of a bitch.

While I sip, instead of relaxing, my nerves are bunching tighter. My fingers drum out a rapid rhythm. And I really, really want to torture something… but I'm not an unreasonable sort! This jolt of bloodlust is not exactly what I get into this early in the day, I usually have to warm up…! But then…

…but then…

The bloody trumpets of Jericho.

Like, seriously. _**Trumpets**_. Loud and obnoxiously in tune.

Not I sound I cherish…nor one I have heard in a _ **very**_ long time, give or take a few millennia. Which I was fine with.

On the final blast, the infamous light fills in the entirely of the club. You know, the voices raised on high hallelujah bullshit. Even more so than with one of Amenadiel's arrivals, time stands still, tugging hard at me.

"…Ohhhh no…no, no, no, no, NO! NO!" I can't even turn around to look at Him. It's not fair—and this is the only time I will call fairness into this, because otherwise it's just the same old routine of 'Punish Lucifer, the great fuckup of the family, blahblahblah!'

Because he's always been so _**perfect**_. Like pukeable perfect. The…squared jawed, upright…muscle bound…mmmyuck.

…And he beat my ass pretty badly once, so…

"Lucifer." His voice is the same timbre as Dad's. That always pissed me off, even before.

"Nope." I still refuse to turn around, but at least dignify him with a backwards finger at his face. "Nope, we aren't doing this."

"Lucifer." He tries again, so… _ **smarmy**_ …and _**pretty**_. I mean, I know I'm pretty. But…he's _**prettier**_. _**Gorgeous,**_ really. The spitting image of Father's wildest hopes. Shoot. Me. Now.

I scoff, exaggerating the sound just because I can. "Considering we haven't spoken since you-know-when, and you _**aren't**_ supposed to come down here, _**ever**_..."

We finally face each other. He's bigger and broader than I remember. Still the golden haired blue-eyed kiss-ass. He shines his armor to a mirror finish—like the puckered, tightwad, type A he is. It's all silvery and shiny…and matches that damn sword. I hate that sword. He _**broke**_ that thing on me and then had the balls to bitch at me for it while punching me in the face. _**Not**_ my finest moment…memories, bad memories…

"My brother."

"Don't call me that."

"Amenadiel calls you such freely."

"Yeah, well, I hate him less."

He cocks that cutesy inquisitive stare he does so well. I _**wish**_ he was the airhead he looks like, but no, Dad is _**that**_ cruel on a lot of things… "Amenadiel also warned you. He gave you the best chance you'll have of our Father's forgiveness and mercy." He shakes his head gravely, "You remain incapable of learning."

"Ahhh, you're not that broken up by it. So, bye."

I turn away, needing to refresh, because, yeah, still not drunk enough… or, really, never could be drunk enough for Him…

"You may be able to dismiss Amenadiel. You may con and beguile Mazikeen. And you may bewitch and bewilder the human woman. But me, Lucifer, you cannot do with me as you do with everyone else." He does his little phasing trick, or whatever you want to call it, where he flits around the in-betweens of the time and space he's controlling, to get in my face. "Because I _**see**_ you. All of you. And what I see, is ugly, and it's base, and it's so very much the Beast you are."

I smile winningly, "Well well, Michael, I had no idea! You * _ **like***_ me! After all this time, too."

He pulls back, rimrod straight, all too proper. The prick… "I pity you."

My smile drops like a rock in the proverbial river Stix: cold and dead. "Never say that to me. You have no _**right**_ to pity."

"I have all the right: I am our Father's defender, and guardian. I shield him from the worst so that he may work in peace."

"…and let me guess: mmmstill the worst, eh?"

There are the times, like now, where I see so _**much**_ potential in _ **him**_ for the worst that it almost makes me wish I'd never fallen—to have him in my place now…Mmm! Delicious!

"Be _**SERIOUS**_ , Lucifer! For _**ONCE**_ in your existence, don't try to toss it all away with some glib comeback!"

"Well, alright, Mikey, sure, let's be serious!" I jab back at him, "Let's…let's pretend we're the chummy pals Papa wanted us to be way back when! How about…" I flash my rouge's grin, the one that gets me into the hearts—well, minds, actually- of my subjects, "We discuss what you desire most. Hmm?"

I suppose this meant I had it coming, but having a vested brother's wingtip at my throat for the second time in less than a month is one time too many. I don't mind Amenadiel pulling the bully treatment. Rather used to it by now, and nothing I can't handle. His wings really aren't that sharp in the grand pantheon of wingtips I've had flashed at me. But Amenadiel is not Him. _**His**_ are brilliantly silver and gold, razor sharp, and voluminous.

"I think," he seethes quietly, "You should hold your tongue _ **. Please**_."

When there's several moments of pointed silence, and he's sure I'm subdued as much as I will allow, his wings fold. He lifts his chin to glare imperiously, "You will listen. You will not interrupt."

I dare to swish the meager dregs of drink in my glass, "May I first?"

His glare deepens but he doesn't say no. So I make a show of it while he actively restrains himself from throttling me. I do love pissing him off, truly. ..

"So," I drawl, "What's so bloody important that the Old Man sent you?"

"He did not send me." He snaps, sounding insulted. Hmm. I wonder…is there trouble in paradise? I turn again, sipping over my thoughts, eyebrows arching in mock wonderment, "Don't tell me you and Daddy are _**fighting**_? Tsk tsk, you shouldn't do that."

"I told you to hold your tongue! That means shut up!"

"Alright, alright... Don't get your tighty-whities in a bunch…" I take to lounging on the nearest bar stool, carefully arranging my robe just so. "There. See? I can listen now."

But while he had seemed so ready to launch his next verbal attack, the greatest of God's soldiers instead looks like a wounded puppy. "This is not easy for me. I want you to know that."

Oh. Shit. I carefully DO NOT tense up…except I am really * _ **this**_ * close to switching to my true form because… "That's quite the precursor. I suggest you chose your next words _**very**_ carefully."

He has the appearance of devastation, "I _**did not**_ break every rule and bounding agreement I have ever made to our Father to never see or speak or look upon you after your betrayal…to suddenly come here and kill you."

I grunt, relaxing, "Lucky for you, then."

He regains some of his piss and vinegar, forcefully exhaling, "I do not relish putting the fate of the universe in your hands. It did not work out in our favor the last time, but I see no other way. I mentioned Father did not send me, so do not take what I'm about to say as his words in my mouth." His eyes take on a light of the divine, glowing a deep blue, "While we are enemies…we are still brothers. I confess to confused awe as to how you are suddenly regaining some of the soul you threw away. Perhaps...I should allow this more than a passing glance. I don't know how worth it you are. However…I do know you are worth more than the throwaway fate you face should you refuse Father any longer."

I hold up my hand to stall him, "Whoa, stop there, bro. Beautiful speech…but I'm not going back. Like…it's that seriously why you came? To try your way on me? Oh baby," I laugh, downing my drink for beat, "If you'd call ahead I coulduv stop ya."

"No," he rigidly responds in a voice I distinctly remember from just before he tossed my ass head first from paradise..., "That's not why I came. I know you won't return on your own. Though you swore you would remain in Hell, and you wantonly broke that like every other decency, I do believe this time you mean what you say. So know this, Lucifer: You. Are. Going. To. Fall."

"Hold up." I sit forward, stirred by the unusually grim implications, "Are you telling me…Dad's willing to do the old song and dance again?!

He looks away, clenching his jaw. "Yes. To right the imbalance you have created, He is willing to go to war with you once more. And this time," He shakes his curls "You will not win. You do not have the forces on your side. The demons of Hell are rising up even now to take the power you vacated. They grow accustomed to your absence, and soon won't want your return at all. You are alone."

I slump back, round-shouldered, "Well," I sigh, "That's a bitch…"

"It's the _**END**_. That's what it is! Do you not realize what War, here, now, _**with you**_ , would do?!"

"It would destroy this earth."

He stares at me meaningfully, like I'm the dunce just figuring the question out while he's four steps ahead. " _ **Yes**_. Yes, it would. Chasms of Heaven and Hell opening up to swallow this Earth and all its humanity. Is that what you want?"

"No," I respond with exaggerated patience, "I want to be left alone! _**YOU**_ …and the Old Man…and all your kind: it's what you want. Well, to that, I say: Go to Hell." I grin shamelessly. "Wallow in it for a while. ..Oh, and when you tell Him that, you can also tell Him I think he's lost his bloody mind. Kay? Thanks."

He blinks, obviously mulling his next choice of ammunition, and it's not fair what he comes up with…and there I go with 'fairness' again, pew… "Would you have that fate for your beloved Detective, Chloe Decker?"

I erupt, the poise stripped. I am myself. " _ **DO NOT SPEAK HER NAME**_."

He is unmoved, "She is why I thought you were changed. I thought…you might care enough…to at least go for her sake?"

I remain firmly undone. " _ **TOUCH**_ her… _**NAME**_ her… _**BREATHE**_ of her… and I don't care how many agreements we have, _**I will kill you**_."

"You don't have that power. But you do have the power to save her. Go back, Luci."

"NO."

"Luci, please."

Now's he's begging! "STOP CALLING ME THAT. …and stop preaching." My voice drops to normal, breathing won't. He has me panting, that's a disadvantage. "I hate your damn preaching. More than I hate you. And I…hate…you."

"And I?" he responds with impeccable lightness, "Always thought you were the best of us. I loved you. Father still does, though I don't understand why. Even that won't save you. He _**will**_ kill you."

His wings rustle in pre-flight, his inner struggling of warning me while dishonoring the Old Man smarting, "That is why I came, to warn you: You are marked. He will come for you, but first, the depths of Heaven and Hell will descend. If your survive them, you will have a _**final**_ , final chance to return to your domain, never to return. If you still refuse," He is immediately pained; perpetually the martyred hero… "He will destroy you… then the Earth, so that He may start all over again. Only you won't have an Eve to ruin humanity with. You'll have nothing, because you will _**be**_ nothing. I am sorry for you, and for this world for harboring you."

And he probably is…he's…* _ **good**_ * like that, loath as I am to admit it…

"And when, pray tell, is this reckoning to come calling?"

He graces me with a languidly ironic smile I am wholly shocked to see, "You will not know the time nor place of your judgement."

HA. "You son of a bitch," I say evenly, "You've been waiting to use that line."

His wings spread, "I am through here. You will not see me again until Father calls upon me."

"Oh. I suppose you'll be the one who kills me, then?"

"I will be."

"Why not…just do it now?" I plant my feet, throwing off my robe to expose my naked torso. "You're here, you're armed. And Daddy's getting pissier by the second."

"Lucifer…" he scolds with condescension, "Because…that's what you want, brother. And this," he grins savagely, "Isn't about you. Remember?"

Well damn. He has grown a tad two dimensional, hasn't he? His wings take one powerful beat to be airborne, "Wait!" I call out. "I have one request. Call it…professional courtesy, if you will."

He peers down his nose at me, "Very well."

"You say Detective Decker is in immediate danger."

"As long as you invade her life. The Spawn will not be lenient and spare a mortal innocent. They will view her as they view Mazikeen."

Stupid twats, course they do. Gah. "Then I want you to protect her." I say this in one big rush to get its taste out of my mouth.

"Me?" He drops to skimming the floor, coming in to hover directly before me.

"Well, yeah. I mean, you are who you are. That's your line, mate."

"You have an odd view of duty. You could just return, as we've hammered into you over and over, and spare her all of it completely."

"And I repeat: I will not return to Hell. I can exactly what I do there, _**here**_. On the ground, in the guts of it!"

"So you say," he smirks. "I saw how you tried to accomplish that the other night. Amenadiel wasn't impressed, and neither was I."

I wave that off, "But you will protect her? And her child." A nice tiny human, is all, and the Detective seems to love it…

Instead of responding, he throws his head back to laugh loudly. Its brassiness quakes the stalled time waves, "You haven't figured it out, have you?" He finally manages.

"Whut?"

"Why Chloe Decker is immune to you?"

"No." I give him my worst glare, "She better not be one of Dad's."

"If only." He is having a wholly too grand of a moment hovering over me in complete domination while crapping on my already warped sense of accomplishment with this woman. "She is your Eve that won't be tempted, dear brother. She is the last remnant of the purity of heart and mind we lost in that Garden because of you. More than that, she is a warrior _ **, a fighter**_." He smiles terrifically, "One of my own. I protect all who are willing to fight for good. _**All,**_ without asking. "

"You better. Get out of here."

"Gladly. Goodbye Lucifer. And for what it's worth, you are welcome."

The trumpets blow a long tempestuous note. The voices rise up to carry his wing beats away. His light fades as a sunset's. Time returns to its regular flow.

"Pssh." I fuckin' never got anything like that…

I snatch my robe for the ground to throw over the bar top. I snatch the bottle of vodka, chugging. I spit the last mouthful, wiping my mouth clean. I wallow in between the states of 'I don't give a fuck', and 'I should probably give a fuck', chucking the bottle when it's empty, waiting for Maze.

She appears on the stairs a short time later, buck naked, trailing a lacy cover-up behind her. In heels, naturally. Her trademark vamping is replaced with expressively grotesque repulsion. "Is that smell…what I think it is?"

"Eeeeyup."

She hurries down the rest of the way, shrugging on the cover up as an afterthought. " _ **HE**_ was here?!" she hisses.

"With all the bells and whistles."

She rolls her eyes, "And they say you're trashing the cosmic balance…"

"Actually, he was trying to be nice."

She stares.

"Oh yeah." I continue on cheerily, "Fair warning, Maze, darling: it's war now. Isn't that lovely?" I reach over the counter for the next bottle I can get at, but she slaps my hand, "HEY. Prince of Darkness, are you hearing yourself?!"

"I am! Clearly. Babe. Because I'm…" I contemplate what I actually am feeling right now, and decide on, "Eh…okay? With all this?" I curl my lips to bare my teeth. "Hell. I kinda won the last one, y'know."

She groans expressively, giving up. "That's not having a plan for this one, _**babe**_."

"The doors right there, Maze. Go if you want."

Her pout is beyond petulant. She scours my face for whatever she wants to find there, "I just hope you know what you're doing." She takes to the stairs again, lackadaisically calling back, "Ya think your human succubus will show up today?"

I recall my royal coin from my robe pocket, flicking it to just a few inches over fingertips. It flips to its pentagram head. Her question faintly registers, "Prolly." I mutter.

"Don't know why you don't just get on with it. She's not much."

The coin spins on its axis. A microcosm of 50-50 chance. I smile broadly to myself, "Ohhh, the opposite…". I think back to what Michael said, that she's the Eve that won't be tempted…and yet here I am putting her in between me and the Spawns of my own rebellion.

Is it worth it?

The coin lands on the pentagram.

"…She just may be everything."


End file.
